


it’s okay

by spacershepards



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 05:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacershepards/pseuds/spacershepards
Summary: sometimes, it seems like north’s the only one who can calm her down, or talk her out of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> neurodivergent south. partially because i see a lot of nuerodivergent freelancers but never see south among that, and also partially because south’s my favorite character and i’m autistic… so basically it was a no brainer. whether south is autistic, or something different, is left up to the reader i guess.

Meltdowns don't look _cute_. When South is screaming and crying and trying to wriggle free of her brother, who's holding her back with literally all of his strength, there's nothing _cute_ about it. Sometimes it's easier to deal with, usually she just gets angry and punches something. Not this time – it's one of the worse times, brought on by something Agent fucking Carolina would say is 'beyond stupid.' _Right_. Fuck off, Lina, you're Number One, you don't get to decide what sucks for someone else.

It isn't like she _wants_ to scream herself hoarse or cry so hard that she sleeps for the next eight billion years. It isn't like she wants to kick and punch and collapse. Her throat hurts and her arms hurt and she's shaking and there's nothing she can do about it.

She _really_ just wants to climb under a table.

Usually, she can tell the warning signs and most of the time manages to at least exit the room before melting down – no, fuck, usually _North_ can tell the signs before she does and maneuvers her out of there before she even realizes what's happening. God, she hates that he has a better idea of when she's going to turn into a two year old than she does.

He has his arms wrapped around her in a way that she can't get out from, mainly so she doesn't destroy any ultra expensive military equipment that God knows they can replace in an instant (there's no way the Director couldn't just snap his fingers and get replacements for half this crap if he wanted to.) She can't stop shaking but it's kinda nice to know North's right there, even when she's screaming into his shirt. Shit. She _hates_ it when he lets her touch him or holds her until she stops. She doesn't want his help, she needs it half the time, and she hates that. What if he's not there at some point? What if he's off with the sim troops or -  


(Pull yourself together, what if someone sees you, what were you _thinking_ joining the military?)

“It's okay. _Shhh_. It's okay,” he says, keeping his voice low, 'cause it's helped before and maybe it'll help this time. She stops struggling, she's way too fucking tired and it's no fucking use anyways, and he strokes her hair, making quiet shooshing noises until she's calmer. She wants to throw up and curse and sleep, and his arms are pulling her close and she doesn't really _want_ to move or leave... but she does, too. It's stupid. It's so goddamn stupid.

He hoists her up, moving his arms under her to carry her back to her room, and she's thankful, she really is, but sometimes she feels more like his _kid_ than his sister. He keeps talking, probably hoping that'll help, going “hey, it's okay, it's okay” even though she's already shut up and she isn't screaming herself hoarse anymore or trying to bite or scratch herself (sometimes that helps calm her down, at least she's not hurting North or Carolina or something, she'd get thrown off the Project in a second.)

“You want me to stay?” he asks, and she buries her face in his neck, doesn't really wanna leave. He takes that as a yes and sits down on her bed with her. She hears him sigh, rubbing her back really carefully so he doesn't set her off again. He puts up with so much. Probably deserves a Best Brother award or something.

What if Carolina saw and started asking questions? What if Connie saw? Hell, what if York saw and tried to make a joke out of it (she's heard him call her a bitch before, he'd _probably_ just see this as South being bitchy and throwing a tantrum and being overly freaking dramatic)? Yeah, it's not like she can explain what the fuck happens to her when she gets too stressed or someone says the wrong thing or whatever pushes her to act like _this_.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

She shakes her head against his shoulder, gets some hair in her mouth.

She doesn't wanna talk about it. She doesn't want him to act all 'I'm sorry' about it, act like he gets it. He's never seen the leader board the way she has. He's never had to hear Carolina go on and on about how if South would just _listen_ or whatever the fuck she's supposedly not doing, if she'd just try better on missions, maybe she'd be higher on the board. (“You could easily be Number Three or Number Two if you followed the rules,” Carolina said once. Ha. She does too follow the fucking rules. She follows them closer than _Maine_ sometimes.)

And now, 'cause she didn't do stealth – she's not _great_ at stealth, she's more OKAY at it, she isn't a stealth specialist, why the hell did the Director think she'd do good on a stealth mission – she's five. Until fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes ago, she was number four, _could've_ been number three if Wyoming or York made a bad decision. She's a fucking _number_. Five out of how ever many states there are. That's her _worth_ here. Carolina's number one and that means she's _way_ more important than any of them.

(Could be worse. She could be number six. Could be off the board all together, like Connie. It could be really worse.)

“Look,” he says after a minute or two, “I don't deserve to be number four.”

Ha. He's bullshitting her and it hasn't even been an hour. No, he doesn't fucking deserve it, but she didn't deserve to be kicked down for making a mistake. If he hadn't been rambling in her ear, if he had just shut up for _a few seconds_...

Maybe this wouldn't have happened.

But it did.

“ _Shut up_. The _Director_ thinks I'm not good enough. Guess I'm not, huh?” Her voice sounds muffled.

“No, South. You're good enough – heck, you're more than good enough. You made a _mistake_. That's not your fault.”

She breaks contact for a second, so her face isn't buried in his shirt anymore, and glares at him. “Yeah, it is. It's my fucking fault. Don't _bullshit_ me, North.”

She hates this. She hates this so freaking much and she doesn't even get to decide if this is important enough to her. It's like the Director got bored of playing actual chess one day and decided to throw a bunch of people on it. It's a game to him, and it's outright _destroying_ her.

He keeps stroking her hair. She breathes in and out, in and out, like some sort of mantra. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. His hands on her hair, her face buried in his shoulder. He smells nice. Like vanilla or something. It's familiar, comforting. He's warm, and she comes to the conclusion that she's freezing, and tries to bury herself even closer to her brother. Maybe she won't have to come out, or leave the room, if she's quiet enough and stays close. Maybe she'll never have to see the fucking board again.

“Look, South... even if you're not the _Director's_ favorite, you're _my_ favorite, okay?”

“Yeah, but...”

“No _but_ ‘s. You're my favorite. You're my top priority – way more than any words the Director could give me, or the board. Okay?”

“Okay. Fine. Jesus, North. Stop being so fucking _sappy_ ,” she mumbles.

“It's my job,” he says, resting his chin atop her head.


End file.
